


Confessions of Love

by Resacon1990



Series: Confessions [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Extended Universe, DCU, Justice League (2017), Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bruce Needs a Hug, Clark gives great Hugs, Confessions, Getting Together, Honest Truths, M/M, POV Clark Kent, Sensitive Bruce, Sensitive Clark, Sequel, Slash, Soft Love, final
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 01:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17819585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resacon1990/pseuds/Resacon1990
Summary: “You’re not broken,” Clark murmurs. “You’re a little bruised maybe, with a few cuts here and there.” Bruce huffs against his chest. “But all you need is a little time and patience. A little bit of care. And I can give that to you if you would just let me.”Bruce doesn’t respond immediately, and Clark wonders if he’ll say anything at all.Or, even if things aren't meant to be said, doesn't mean they don't need to be said.





	Confessions of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a couple days late of actually posting this, mainly because I changed my mind how I wanted this series to end three different times and then just as I was posting this I wrote another 1k words of angst!
> 
> So, here comes the final!
> 
> Sequel to [Confessions of the Masked Crusader](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17254865), and [Confessions of the Man of Steel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17421752), and [Confessions by the Lasso of Hestia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626823)!
> 
> Enjoy xx

It takes Clark a long time to pin Bruce down.

It’s not surprising. After the incident with the Lasso, Bruce was always bound to run away. Clark knows that, he’s not stupid. Bruce doesn’t _do_ emotions or feelings or anything in-between. He was drunk the time he talked about his parents, and when he was there for Clark at the time of his father’s anniversary he was not cold, but still reserved.

So spilling out all his secrets around this relationship with the whole League listening in must’ve been a literal _nightmare_ for him.

Clark gets it. It upsets him at first that Bruce clearly doesn’t want to speak to him, of course it would and Barry nods and agrees when Clark whinges to him about it, but he’s not irrational and does come around eventually. He decides to let Bruce take all the time he needs, no matter what Clark wants.

He’s there when Bruce wakes up, he’s there when Bruce takes his first steps on his newly fixed dislocated knee, and he’s there when Bruce makes some excuse and disappears for two damn weeks.

Two weeks.

It does take Clark a while to finally decide to hunt Bruce down after that time. He’s torn between respecting Bruce’s space and approaching the problem head-on so they can move forward after this hiccup. When he does start to see if Bruce will speak to him, he’s not surprised that it’s harder than just finding him in the manor. The man is _excellent_ at being a ghost.

Despite that, Clark hears his heartbeat like it’s right beside him at all times. Sometimes he sits alone in the library and just _listens_ , thankful that, even if Bruce is avoiding him, his heart is still damn well beating. It’s a comfort thing.

Eventually, though, enough is enough, and it’s after those two weeks that Clark finds himself ringing the doorbell on the Lake-House doorstep.

He sees movement immediately and, when the door opens to show Alfred, Clark has a moment where he wonders if he’s going to need to bargain his way past the man. Alfred’s protectiveness of Bruce rivals all of the League members combined, and he straightens his back in preparation.

Surprisingly, Alfred just sighs and opens the door wider. “About time, Master Kent,” he says, his tone similar to Clark’s mother when she’s scolding him for tracking mud indoors. “I’ve been worried that you wouldn’t arrive at all and I’d have to track you down and drag you back here by your ear.”

“Ah, no, sir,” Clark replies awkwardly as he steps through the doorway into the immaculate house. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“Nonsense,” Alfred says as he shuts the door and gestures for Clark to follow him. “It’s not me that’s been waiting.”

It takes Clark a moment to catch his meaning. “I… he’s been waiting for me?” he asks, slightly shocked.

“In his way,” Alfred scoffs as they push through doors into the heart of the house. “Poor Master Bruce _is_ slightly repressed though. I’ll be pleased when this is all sorted and we can go back to surly silences instead of surly pining.”

Clark almost laughs at that, but he’s distracted by Alfred pausing them in the middle of the hallway and opening up a small hidden panel in the large expanse of wall. Clark isn’t silly, he can _feel_ Bruce is below them, but he did imagine that the entrance to the Bat Cave would be a lot more flashy than just a retracting wall at Alfred palm biometrics.

“Now then,” Alfred says as he turns to Bruce and gestures at the sudden stairs that appear on the other side of the wall, “hop to it, Master Kent. You needn’t worry about timings. Please tell Master Bruce that I’ve cancelled his dinner with the board.”

Clark just nods dumbly, not use to the sheer propriety that Alfred displays, and he takes a few hesitant steps down the stairs before halting when Alfred clears his throat.

He turns back to see Alfred looking down at him, the steps making Clark that little bit shorter than the man, and he’s surprised to see such a sinister look on Alfred’s face.

“If you hurt him, Master Kent,” Alfred states, his voice low and threatening. “I will ensure that you pay in every way possible.” He leans forward, eyes narrowed. “ _Every_ way.”

Clark doesn’t even get to respond as Alfred takes a step back and the wall closes in Clark’s face. He blinks stupidly at it for a moment before sighing and turning around. The stairs look painfully uninviting for a moment, but Clark grits his teeth and presses on.

When he reaches the bottom it’s to see the Bat Cave laid out before him. Cars and planes line the giant cavern on one side and electronics of all sorts line the other. Right in front of Clark though is a series of glass displays, and his heart ends up in his throat when he sees a destroyed Robin suit on display.

It’s obvious what’s happened to the wearer of the suit, and Clark doesn’t need to wonder why Bruce has never had another Robin.

It takes Clark a moment to see, but just past the glass cases is a rather surprised looking Bruce. Only for a moment though, and Clark catches the moment Bruce schools his face into something inscrutable as he turns his gaze back to the large computer he’s sitting in front of.

He doesn’t say a word, and Clark awkwardly finishes descending the last of the stairs to the ground floor of the Bat Cave before making his way towards Bruce. Part of him is desperate for Bruce to say something, but the other half of him is thankful that he’s being given more time to think.

He comes to a halt just behind Bruce and he looks at the way Bruce’s shoulders are drawn tight and protective, like he’s waiting for a blow from behind. It crushes Clark, and he grits his teeth as he steps around Bruce’s chair to stand in front of him.

It’s enough to get Bruce’s attention, and Bruce’s jaw works for a brief moment before he finally glances up from the computer screen to look at Clark.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Bruce says abruptly, his voice distant from what Clark is used to. “I thought we were still giving each other space.”

“Space?” Clark can’t help but say, his voice awfully quiet. “Bruce, you’ve been avoiding me.”

Bruce stares at him for a moment, still impassive as ever, before he drops his gaze to the computer again. “I don’t have time for this, Clark,” he says brusquely. “I have a board meeting soon-”

“Alfred cancelled your dinner,” Clark interrupts him, and he pauses before reaching out to place a hand over Bruce’s on the keyboard. They still beneath his palm, and he hears Bruce suck in a shaky breath. “He’s the one that let me down here.”

Bruce doesn’t respond for a long moment. He seems like he’s just shut down all of a sudden, and Clark is about to call his name when Bruce yanks his hands out from beneath Clark’s and pushes away from the desk.

He stands up in a blustered hurry, tugging at his suit as he steps back from Clark before regarding him with a fake blank expression, and it’s only because Clark _knows_ him that he can see the cracks underneath.

“Fine,” Bruce snaps, his hands in tight fists as he clenches and unclenches them. “Fine, Clark. Lets get this over and done with then.”

Clark blinks stupidly for a moment, unsure of what the sudden anger is about, and he can’t stop himself reaching out for Bruce again only to flinch when Bruce shies away from his touch.

“I don’t understand,” Clark starts to say as his hand falls limply to his side. “Why are you upset?”

Bruce stares at him for a moment before he lets out a huff and shakes his head, dropping his gaze as he does so. “I guess I shouldn’t be,” he says darkly. “It’s not like we were ever together.”

_That_ throws Clark for a loop, and he blinks stupidly before he takes two strides forward and grabs Bruce by the elbows. “ _What_ are you talking about?” he demands, giving Bruce a shake, and it’s only because he thinks he’s surprised Bruce that he doesn’t get flipped over his shoulder.

“This is it, right?” Bruce snaps once he’s recovered, and he attempts to yank his arms away but Clark’s grip is too tight. “This is the end of whatever this is.”

“Whatever this… Bruce, what the hell,” Clark curses. It shows how often he does as Bruce looks up in surprise. “What is going through your head? _Talk_ to me.”

Bruce blinks at him a couple of times before he stops resisting Clark’s hold. “After what I said under the lasso,” he says, his voice low and quiet, “this has to end, doesn’t it?”

The fact he looks so unsure makes Clark want to just hold him, but he pushes down the urge as he shakes his head. “Why would this end because of what you said, Bruce?” Clark asks instead. “We have doubts, yes, we _both_ have doubts. But that doesn’t mean we have to end this. We talk it out like _adults_.”

Bruce stares at him for a moment before he huffs and relaxes his arms in Clark’s grip. He doesn’t say a word though, and Clark takes a moment to steady himself before he tugs Bruce even closer and wraps his arms around him.

Bruce lets out a shuddering breath against Clark’s collarbone as he slowly loops his arms around Clark’s waist, and Clark drops his chin on top of Bruce’s head and sighs. What a hell of a situation.

“Where do we start, aye?” Clark eventually says, and Bruce’s arms tighten around him briefly before he replies.

“This isn’t something you can help me with, Clark,” he murmurs, and it’s not often that Clark sees Bruce so quiet. “This is a me problem. _I’m_ the one that has to-”

“You’re right,” Clark cuts him off, and he squeezes Bruce before he pulls him away and looks him in the eye. “You’re right. I can’t change how you think of yourself, no matter how _much_ I want to.” His lips thin into a grim line. “But I want you to know that I think you’re more than what you think you are, that you’re worth so damn much that it makes me dizzy to think about, that there’s _nothing_ about you that I don’t admire or love.” He grips the back of Bruce’s neck. “You need to know that you are _not_ the same kind of person that killed your parents.”

“How would you know?” Bruce asks, and it looks like it surprises him that it comes out.

“I don’t,” Clark says honestly. “I don’t know Joe Chill at all. I don’t know what kind of person he is besides the fact that _he_ killed your parents.” Bruce opens his mouth but Clark talks over him. “But I _do_ know that you have more honour, that you have more _love_ in your heart, that you fight for what’s good and right and _just_ , no matter the odds.” He slips his hand up to cup Bruce’s cheek. “And that I love _you_ , Bruce Wayne, doubts and all.”

He’s expecting the silence, he’s expecting Bruce to freeze at those words, but he’s not expecting the shining eyes as Bruce’s mouth falls open and he shudders in Clark’s grip.

He doesn’t say anything though, not a word, and Clark glides his thumb across Bruce’s cheekbone and smiles at him so damn softly.

“Yeah,” he repeats again, and Bruce blinks. “I love you, Bruce. Crazy as that might sound for how long we’ve-”

He doesn’t get to finish as suddenly Bruce surges forward and slams their lips together. It blows Clark away, and he steadies himself with a hand on Bruce’s hip before he presses himself right back against Bruce. It’s intoxicating, _overwhelming_ , and Clark lets Bruce take control, holding him close until Bruce lets out a broken noise and breaks away.

“You can’t,” Bruce tells him matter-of-factly,“You can’t love me, Clark. It won’t end well for you.” His eyes have a hard glean to them suddenly as he stays at arm's length. 

“Yes, I can,” Clark murmurs against his forehead. “I can and I do, Bruce.”

Bruce huffs and looks away, his eyes no longer with a sheen over them. He’s hard, he’s reserved, and Clark wonders how he can break through that wall he’s placing between them.

“Everyone I have ever loved,” Bruce starts to say, and Clark sees how tight his fists are where they’re tucked under his crossed arms. “ _Everyone_ has suffered because of me. I can’t let you become one of them.” His eyes are expressionless when he looks back. “My mother always told me that bad people attract worse people. I attract liars, thieves, and _murderers_. What does that make me?”

Clark genuinely doesn’t know how to respond for a moment, the first time he’s felt helpless around Bruce. There are so many words to say and not a single one of them will _ever_ convince Bruce otherwise.

But maybe that’s just it.

“I can’t convince you that you’re not who you think you are,” Clark eventually murmurs carefully, and he spots the way Bruce’s shoulders droop despite his expression never changing. “I will never be able to do that, Bruce. No matter what I think or know about you, it will never change your own thoughts about yourself. I accept that.”

Bruce nods his head slowly. “So this is it then-” he starts to say, and Clark can’t help but roll his eyes before he cuts him off.

“No,” he snaps. “No, Bruce, this isn’t _it_.” He shakes his head. “You don’t just give up on people because they need patience and time. Because they need _understanding_.” He very nearly grabs Bruce’s shoulders to shake him but stops himself before he can. “Listen to what I am saying, Bruce.”

“I am!” Bruce growls, his eyes flashing with anger. “I am listening, Clark, and what I’m hearing is that I’m too damn broken for you!”

“You’re not broken!” Clark yells, his fists tight as he feels _anger_ course through him. Not anger at Bruce, no, he can’t be angry at him. Anger for the situation, anger for the people who’ve hurt Bruce in the past, _anger_ for the people who’ve made Bruce feel like he’s worth nothing.

“I am,” Bruce snarls, and he’s dragging a hand over his face. “Why can’t you _see_ that?” he demands. “Why can’t you see how broken I am? How _worthless_ I am?” He lets out a sharp laugh that Clark has never heard before. “I will destroy you, Clark.”

It’s not a threat, Clark knows, but while Bruce thinks it’s a certainty, Clark knows it won’t be. It won’t, because he won’t let that happen. He will _never_ let that happen.

He doesn’t resist his urges this time, and Clark reaches out and tugs Bruce in until he can brush his lips against Bruce’s forehead, holding Bruce close with a hand twined in his hair as Bruce barely breathes.

“You’re not broken,” Clark murmurs against Bruce’s skin. “You’re a little bruised maybe, with a few cuts here and there.” Bruce huffs against his chest. “But all you need is a little time and patience. A little bit of care. And I can _give_ that to you if you would just let me.”

Bruce doesn’t respond immediately, and Clark wonders if he’ll say anything at all until Bruce sags against him.

“Why would you ever want damaged goods, Clark?” Bruce asks, his voice so quiet that it’s probably only because of his super-hearing that Clark hears it. “Why would you ever want me?”

“Because I love you, stupid,” Clark tells him, and he feels Bruce snort against him. “I’m serious, Bruce. You’re never getting rid of me now.”

Bruce shakes his head. “But what about days like this?” he asks, and Clark can _hear_ the honesty in his words. “What about days when I know I’m too good for you?”

“I’m not too good for you,” Clark says sternly. “We’re good for each other, Bruce. You’re everything I need and want.”

“What about if this ends?” Bruce continues, almost like he didn’t hear Clark as he pulls away until they’re arm's length apart, and Clark wonders if this will be what it’s like for a while? Bruce pulling away and Clark always chasing?. 

But that’s okay, Clark will do that if he must.

“What will happen?” Bruce is saying. “What will-”

“ _If_ that ever happens, then we deal with it,” Clark interrupts, and he’s not stupid to think that breaking up isn’t a possibility. Everything is, but Clark has _every_ intention on staying with Bruce until he’s no longer wanted, on making a _choice_ to be with Bruce. “But Bruce,” he continues, “stop thinking about the negatives. Think about what we have, what we can have, what we _will_ have.”

“You’re stupidly optimistic,” Bruce scolds softly, and Clark lets out a short surprised chuckle.

“Someone has to be.”

Bruce laughs weakly, shaking his head again and again until Clark stops him with his hand on his cheek, and Bruce turns his face until his lips are pressed to Clark’s palm.

“You ridiculous man,” Bruce mutters, and Clark grins. Bruce glances up before a slow smile breaks out over his face. “You completely _ridiculous_ man.”

“Absolutely,” Clark agrees, and it’s his turn to lean in as he kisses Bruce just _lightly_ on the lips before he breaks out in a smile again. “Don’t you forget it.”

They lock eyes, and Bruce shakes his head as his own smile starts to creep onto his face. His hands have moved up to be pressed flat against Clark’s chest, and Clark drops his hand from Bruce’s cheek to wrap around them both.

“We can do this,” Clark says softly. “We can do this _together_ , Bruce. I want to do this together."

Bruce watches him for a moment before he nods just _barely_. “Yes,” he says, and Clark can’t help but let out a relieved laugh as Bruce shakes his head and smiles.

He leans forward again, this time slow and steady, and he kisses Bruce so _gently_ that he feels Bruce’s hands tremble under Clark’s own. Bruce lets out a small gasp, something that gets lost as Clark pushes in until they’re moulded from head to toe and there’s no space between them as Clark just _wraps_ himself in everything Bruce.

It’s perfect this time, perfect as Bruce responds with care, perfect as Clark _feels_ everything that Bruce wants to say in this one kiss, perfect as he runs his fingers through Bruce’s hair, perfect as Bruce’s mouth opens against his, _perfect_ as it damn well should be.

They fall apart though when they hear a clearing throat behind them, and Clark feels dazed as they both turn to see who it is.

Alfred stares back at them, definitely unimpressed as he raises an eyebrow. “Am I correct in assuming that Master Kent will be staying for dinner?” he asks, and Clark can _hear_ the scolding in his voice. He tries not to smile.

Bruce looks at Clark briefly and must see the answer there as he nods. “Yes, Alfred,” he replies, “Clark will be joining us for the evening.”

Alfred just inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Must I prepare a spare room for you, Master Kent?”

Before Clark can even open his mouth to answer, Bruce interrupts with a sudden and stressed “ _Alfred_ ”, to which the corner of Alfred’s mouth twitches and Clark sees the mischief in the man’s eyes. 

It feels like they’re teenagers for a moment, something that Clark isn't used to, and he squeezes his hand around Bruce’s and gives him a warm smile.

“In any case,” Alfred calls out as he starts to turn back to the stairs, “please do clean up before dinner. I would prefer to not have to deal with either of your drool stained clothes.”

“ _Alfred_!”

Clark can’t stop his laughter as Alfred scoffs and disappears from the cave, and Bruce looks _mortified_ where he stands. 

It’s beautiful and endearing, and Clark can’t stop himself from leaning forward and kissing Bruce again.

 

  

...

 

 

_End._


End file.
